MY MAFIA BOYFRIEND

She Is Safe

Two days later the pain had faded, and the quiet understanding between them had settled into something steadier.

Julian was in the living room reviewing a set of documents when Dante came up, his expression was tighter than usual.

“We have a problem,” Dante said. “Richard — Isabella’s father — just walked into the lobby with two armed men. He’s demanding to see his daughter. He’s already threatened to involve the police if we don’t let him up.”

Julian’s face went still. He set the papers aside and looked toward the hallway where Isabella had gone to shower only minutes earlier.

“Keep him in the lobby,” Julian ordered. “No elevators. No access to this floor. I’ll come down.”

Dante gave a short nod and left.

Julian waited until Isabella stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of soft pants. He crossed to her and rested both hands on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing lightly along her collarbones.

“Your father’s downstairs,” he said evenly. “He’s in the lobby with two men. He’s asking for you.”

Isabella’s eyes widened. “He’s here?”

“Yes. And he’s not coming up.” Julian’s voice stayed calm, but there was no room for argument in it. “I’m going down to deal with him. You stay here. Dante will remain on this floor with you until I get back.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly torn.

Julian leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to her forehead.

“I meant what I said. You’re safe with me. Let me handle this.”

He stepped back, already reaching for his jacket, the softness he showed only her disappearing behind the colder expression he wore for everyone else. As he walked toward the elevator, he glanced back once.

“Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

Then the elevator doors closed, and Isabella was left standing in the quiet penthouse, knowing her father was only a few floors below — and that Julian had no intention of letting the two of them meet.

Julian stepped out of the elevator into the lobby with the same controlled calm he used for every serious problem.

Richard, Isabella’s father, stood near the front desk with two men flanking him. He was broad-shouldered, gray at the temples, and dressed like a man used to being obeyed. The moment he saw Julian, his expression hardened.

“Where is my daughter?” Richard demanded.

Julian stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but unyielding. “Safe. That’s all you need to know.”

Richard took a step forward. The two men beside him shifted slightly. Across the lobby, Dante, and two of Julian’s security waited in silence, watching everything.

“I’ve called her phone for days,” Richard said, voice rising. “Her mother is sick with worry. You don’t get to keep her locked away like some possession. I want to see her. Now.”

Julian’s eyes stayed cold. “No.”

The single word landed like a door shutting.

Richard’s face flushed. “You think you can just decide that? I’ll have police here in twenty minutes. I’ll tear this building apart if I have to.”

Julian tilted his head slightly. “You can try. But the second you involve anyone official, every quiet arrangement your company relies on starts getting examined. Shipments. Contracts. Accounts. Are you sure you want that kind of attention?”

Richard’s mouth tightened. The threat had landed.

“She’s my daughter,” he said, lower now but no less angry. “You don’t get to erase her family.”

“I’m not erasing anything,” Julian replied. “I’m protecting what’s mine to protect. She knows where she is. She knows she’s safe. That’s enough.”

For a long moment the two men stared at each other. The lobby felt too small for the tension between them.

Finally Richard spoke again, voice tight. “Tell her her mother needs her. Tell her we’re not going away.”

Julian gave a short, emotionless nod. “I’ll pass the message. Now get out of my building.”

Richard held his ground for another few seconds, then turned sharply and walked toward the exit, his two men following. Only when the glass doors closed behind them did Dante move closer.

“He’ll be back,” Dante said quietly.

“I know.” Julian’s gaze remained on the doors. “Next time he brings more than threats, we handle it differently. For now, increase the men on the lower floors. No one from her family gets past the desk.”

He turned and headed back to the elevator without another word.

Upstairs, Isabella was waiting near the windows when the doors opened. The moment she saw Julian’s face, she knew the meeting had not been gentle.

“What did he say?” she asked.

Julian crossed the room, stopped in front of her, and rested both hands on her waist — the first real touch he had initiated since their fight .

“He wants you downstairs. He made threats. I told him no.” His thumbs moved in a slow, grounding pass along her sides. “He also said your mother needs you. I told him I would pass the message.”

Isabella searched his eyes. “And?”

“And you’re still not going down there,” Julian said, quieter now. “Not today. Not while he’s that angry. But I won’t keep the truth from you either. She needs you. He made that clear.”

He leaned in and pressed his forehead lightly to hers, the hardness he had worn in the lobby already fading.

“I’m not locking you away to be cruel,” he murmured. “I’m doing it because I refuse to hand you over to people who will try to take you from me. We’ll figure out the rest. Just not like this.”

Isabella closed her eyes, feeling the steady pressure of his hands and the quiet certainty in his voice, while downstairs her father left the building carrying both fury and the knowledge that seeing his daughter would not be simple.